Chapter Five
Stranger Things Have Happened

-.-
Fia Baltimoore
Winterfell - The Forge
_._

The sight of sweaty men and the smell of smoke and coal wasn't really something a young woman would never get used to but lately Fia had been loitering about the scorching heat of the forge as Jon spent most of his time there for a secret purpose. It was already noon and usually she was with her lady to accompany her to the library for their lessons but lately everyone was too busy with the arrival and Lady Sansa had told her to take some time for herself as she locked herself in her room with her own agenda.

'Have I done something wrong?' she asked herself as she leaned on the small wobbly footstool. Her head was cradled in her hands as she watched Jon pick up a blade and weighed it in his hands. It was far too small and skinny for him... but what does she know about weapons? The sharpest thing she was ever allowed to go near was a bread knife.

"Don't you have anything better to do than watch me?" Jon commented; his back still facing her. She rolled her eyes as she stretched her arms before her,

"That's quite bold of you to say that I'm merely here because of your presence" Of course, like some other time, what she say was false. Even after she was acquainted with the girls from the sept and winter town, she sought after Jon's company out of familiarity. Her time for prayers in the Godswood was still far away, the library was too quiet and no matter how hard she tried; she just can't seem to fit in with the other girls who would gather into a circle and gossip under their breath. It wasn't that she didn't like other ladies' presence but they were talking about nonsensical things that were little to no benefit for her goal.

Jon snorted, "Am I supposed to believe that you go to the forge because you like it here?"

She scoffed before she tried to make a viable answer, "I'm sorry but I happened be very familiar with... swords and daggers!"

There was a nagging thought that somehow Jon didn't believe her- and neither do half of the smiths who were obviously eavesdropping on their conversation- they failed terribly at the tone of subtlety as they openly stare at the two of them.

"Right... like the difference between a scabbard and a greatsword?" he queried as he placed the thin blade on the master blacksmith's table (Fia believed he was called Master Mikken) and crossed his arms in an arrogant manner as he turned around to face her.

She felt her ears grow hot and so did her cheeks as he regarded her ill-concealed lie with a knowing light in his eyes and a somewhat cocky smirk. The past few days without accompanying Lady Sansa and the lack of a productive hobby led her to seek her (regrettably) only friend who didn't really share the same sentiment. In fact, he tried to shoo her off by promptly ignoring her, entering a tavern in winter town once (although he rushed out no more than a minute after stepping into that seedy place that turned out to be a pleasure house) and even tried to coax Ghost to chase her before he just gave up.

By now he was used to her following him around like a pup and in turn, he needn't worry about speaking out of line with her. But he had walls around him that she couldn't chip away; he was too guarded to let anyone in. Maybe it came with being a highborn... illegitimate son. After spending some time with Jon, Fia found herself deeming the term 'bastard' too degrading.

"Is that sword yours?" she asked, veering him off from his own question.

He picked up the sword and held it up for her to see; "I think I would need a much bigger blade if it's for me now wouldn't I? This looks like something I would use it to pick my teeth with."

Fia was sure that he was doing this to get revenge on the whole fur cloak scene. She bit the inside of her cheek and placed her hands on her lap, trying to regain composure whilst waiting for him to finish... whatever he was doing in silence. Oh she bet with all the coin she had that he was undoubtedly smug about this; it was the first time he had completely shut her up.

-.-
Arya Stark
Winterfell – Practice Yard
_._

Her eyes were focused and her breathing was in perfect rhythm as she eyed the target with the tip of the arrow. She released the string and felt the vibration from the notch echo on her cheek and a satisfied grin spilled on her lips as the arrow hit its mark. It was more like child's play; she wanted to master the sword but everything in the practice yard was either too big or too dull to be a proper weapon. Even if she was the daughter of the lord, the smiths wouldn't present her with a sword as she pleases, her mother would no doubt punish them if she saw them making a sword for her youngest daughter.

The words of her father rang in her ear as she grabbed another arrow from the quiver; "One day, you will be a lady and you'll marry a lord."

How she detested that fate; no one can control her future but her and there will be no lord with what she's planning. She wanted to travel to the Free Cities, where a girl can train to fight and do as she pleases... No chains, no titles and obligations of any sort but at the same time, she didn't want to leave her family here in Winterfell.

Her father announced at dinner that King Robert would arrive at Winterfell within a fortnight with a naturalborn son. That was strange for the king to bring an illegitimate child to Winterfell and right under her father's wing. Of course that was like a slap to his queen's face; her mother was already particularly nasty to Jon, what more is the queen if the king were to legitimize the boy as his heir?

Nymeria, who was peacefully dozing under the shade of the perch, suddenly raised her head with ears perked up like something alarmed her. The noise also distracted Arya as she was about to nock the arrow to the string only to see Sansa carry a bundle of fabric in her arms with a secretive smile on her lovely face with Lady on tow, wagging on her bushy tail. 'What's she up to?' she asked herself as she watched her sister disappear into the castle. Her handmaiden wasn't with her, which was strange; Sansa usually wouldn't go to other places without Fia shadowing her steps.

Arya huffed as she rolled the impossibly long sleeves of the dress to her forearm. It was five moon's turn ago her mother had threw her hands up in defeat after she debated about wearing trousers like a boy but since the news of the king's visit, she was now required to wear those dreadful things again and this time, her hair was pinned up into a northern braid as well. 'They're trying to turn me into a lady again' she huffed as she tugged viciously at the bow string and sent the arrow to the target with accuracy that would make a seasoned marksman blush.

She will not let them crush her spirit. For thirteen years of her life, she was told about what she should and shouldn't do, be someone she didn't want to be. Arya Horseface can't be compared with the beautiful and gentle Sansa. There will be the day when she will be free from all these lady-roles and marriage nonsense and go wherever she pleased but until then, she will have to suck it in and let things take its course.

Another arrow had found its mark.

A proud smirk made its way to her face before she found Jon walking by the kennels with the missing handmaiden right behind him. Arya frowned. Now that wasn't an ordinary sight to see; usually most women- especially ladies, avoided Jon as if he was riddled. Nobody but Arya, Robb and Bran regarded him as part of the family. Other people treat him poorly while spatting the word 'bastard' like it's filth. Her mother hated him with such passion that she would've killed Jon with a glare if it was possible. Rickon was too young to understand anything and Sansa never really bothered to acknowledge him; something that annoyed her.

They were talking, well- more like Fia was talking as she tried to keep up with Jon's longer strides, apparently unaware that they were garnering attention of other people apart from her. There was something odd with that handmaiden. She didn't pose like a real threat, but instincts told Arya that Fia wasn't really who she said she was. Although she was not really bad for company, she was too attached to Sansa and her rather strange friendship with Jon made Arya wary of the handmaiden.

Noon was coming and Arya looked to the South Gate of the keep as if expecting something to pop out of thin air. Her Stark gray eyes traveled the walls up to the skies where a flock of birds fly away for much warmer climate. She looked towards the Great Keep and saw Bran scale the walls of the broken tower with Summer watching him from the ground.

A flash of white caught her eyes and she turned (a bit too quickly) to her left to see Ghost run to Jon and Fia with huge leaps. Arya quirked a brow as Fia ducked behind Jon while he stroked his direwolf's fur; Fia didn't seem to be too keen on having direwolves around her. Sansa's direwolf was the smallest out of the pack so Fia was calm in Lady's presence. For Arya, that's just stupid; a wolf is still a wolf no matter the size.

-.-
Jon Snow
_._

"He's not going to bite you" he repeated in exasperation for the nth cycle as he stroked Ghost's thick fur before he quickly wiped away the drops of blood that stained direwolf's jaws. It was evident that he had just come back from hunting and this kind of sight won't gain a favourable reaction from the girl behind him.

Fia poked her head from behind him, her hands gripped his black tunic and slowly tiptoed closer to Ghost but as the wolf lifted his head to get a better look at the human behind his master, she pulled Jon quite hard in front of her to shield herself from the white wolf. Jon swatted her hands away from his shirt before he looked at the practice yard to see Arya staring at them with curious gray eyes.

He gave a smile to his young half-sister who returned it with a slight tilt of her head. He noticed several people watching them and he took that as a sign to move- or maybe create a distance between him and the handmaiden. It was unusual to see him in the company of a lady that wasn't Arya; no doubt there will be talks about this. But he never really cared about rumours; he had a lot of practice ever since he was but a boy. He was far more concerned that it will reach Lady Catelyn's ears and she might think that he was the one seeking her presence.

Arya placed the bow back to the rack and slung the quiver on the fence before she walked away from the approaching Jon and Fia. Jon frowned at her suddenly distant attitude before he concluded that she wasn't keen on having the handmaiden for company. It was really odd as his younger half-sibling was used to having him all by herself. Arya did say that he was the only one who could understand her as an outsider, someone different from the others.

"Was that Arya?" the girl asked as she tried to look over his form. He changed his direction and headed towards the stables to fetch some grains and bring them back to Hullen, the master of horses to inspect the feeds. The men had been complaining that the animals had been growing skinny and the lack of green grass for the horses to graze on worried Hullen.

"You're very quiet today" Fia noted as they entered the stables. Ghost wandered out of the hunter's gate with a wag on his tail, reveling on the fact that he can come and go as he pleased and even chase a couple of squirrels for fun. Jon wished he can be as free as the direwolf. He realized that she had been trying to get his attention when she poked him rather firmly on his side. "Is your head floating above the clouds?" she teased, reaching up to a brown stallion to stroke its mane with her left hand. Oh, she's afraid of Ghost but not to a large horse who had never seen her before and had the ability to kick her.

"Believe me, it's hard to tune out your voice" he answered back with an annoyed tone. He reached for an empty sack but jumped back when a squeak came from it and a brown fat rat ran out of the bag to retreat to the bale of hay. "Don't" he grounded out when he heard the rush of air that exited her lips. Fia followed his order and just handed another bag to him, her face turned to the opposite direction with her lips pursed, trying to hold back her giggles.

He opened the casks that contained the oats and placed a handful in the bag before he turned around to see Fia sitting on the wooden fence; watching him with her grayish blue eyes once again. Before, it fazed him but he was used to it by now. Her feet that were dangling on the air kicked back and forth like a child, unaware of the world around her... which is why she didn't notice the spider that was slowly crawling down to the crown of her head.

She blinked once, then twice before a pink hue appeared on her face and puckered her lips, "What?" Usually he would turn away whenever he caught her gaze but he kept her gaze before his eyes looked at the spider that was just inches away from her head; its web shone with the sunlight. Her brows furrowed as she followed the direction of where he was looking before she made a high-pitched scream and scrambled down the fence, all the while tussling her hair in case another spider had fallen to her head.

Then, he laughed. Loudly.

It was a nice feeling, a carefree sound that was almost impossible to come out from his mouth. A foreign light-heartedness and abandonment enveloped his body, so much the opposite of his usual brooding mood. Obviously she didn't find it funny since she kept hitting him on his forearm although they were not even painful at the slightest. It was like getting hit by a pillow filled with feathers and down. He stopped laughing long enough to realize how close her face was to his own. He could see near invisible freckles that splayed across her face and the tiny wisps of hair that weren't long enough to be tamed.

Fia hastily took a couple of steps back, her pale face had a shade of red across her cheek before she mumbled some sort of excuse and ran out of the stables, almost ran into Hodor who had a large stack of wood tied on his back.

What just happened? One moment they were laughing (well, more like he was the one laughing and she was the one screaming) and the next, she was mumbling like a simpleton and ran away. Did she just blush? Maybe it was from embarrassment... after all she was a lady and being in a close proximity with a man will no doubt cause such a reaction. What should he expect? And they were just mere acquaintances and nothing more. After all, she follows him around out of boredom and he, more or less... tolerated her presence.

Some may think that there were... less innocent reasons but Jon knew that if there was someone Fia would look to as a potential paramour then it would be Robb. Fair, graceful and honourable Robb; Lord Stark's trueborn son. And she did express some sort of affection towards him ever since that little run-in with Theon. But as he saw her face up close, he could slightly understand why the Greyjoy tried to bed her.

Now, it was extremely undoubtable that Jon was a very much a male and even if he might not enjoy the company of... women like the soldiers or the stable hands, he was not lacking any knowledge that the handmaiden, though still quite young (maybe a year or two from his own age) had subtle charm and beauty that will bloom once she had come of age.

She won't look at him as a man, maybe a close friend at best. He's a bastard, a disgrace to his family and a pox to Winterfell. Surely no sane woman, especially a highborn, would choose him as a partner, not even a commonfolk would. His worth was far less than a stallion's in the market.

He really needed a drink.

-.-
Fia Baltimoore
_._

Her face was on fire.

There was a skip in her heart when she stared up at his stormy gray eyes. Too close... their faces were too close. She nearly ran into Hodor, the extremely large stable boy, before she sidestepped out of the way and retreated to the Godswood to sort out her thoughts. The frosty wind that ran through her face helped her calm down before she kneeled to the edge of the pool. The crystal surface was filled with ripples as the red leaves fell to the water. She placed a hand over her chest where her heart was beating erratically and her breathing was laboured. Things just happened so fast; one thing just led to another and now she was seeking refuge to the Godswood, knowing fully well that Jon won't even try to follow her. It wasn't in his nature.

But when he laughed... it was actually a nice thing to hear. Jon had this serious and bitter front that she thought that he didn't know how to smile (smirking was a different thing) and that he could be carefree as well. 'A secret side of Jon Snow' she mused silently.

"Are you alright child?"

Fia nearly jumped when she heard a voice behind her. She turned to see Lord Stark standing by the heart tree. The girl stood up and curtsied, "It's nothing my lord" she assured, "I was just sorting out my thoughts."

Lord Stark nodded, his face was always serious (like Jon, she noted) and his face never betrayed what was in his mind. "Then forgive me if I have startled you."

Fia gave him a weak smile and looked down at her hands. She didn't know how to start a conversation with the quiet man. In fact, this was the first time they were alone. It was for a few minutes before he asked her,

"How do you find Winterfell?"

"It's wonderful here my lord" she answered truthfully.

"Has everyone treated you well?" he continued on as he sat by the stone bench next to the tree. Sap started to run under the 'eyes' of the tree, making it look as if it was crying blood.

"Yes, all of them are very kind to me" she replied "Especially Lady Sansa. I couldn't think of anyone more kind and gentle than her."

Lord Stark nodded, "Sansa enjoyed your company immensely and Robb had sung positive things about your service. But" he paused, making her nervous for whatever reason. "I've seen you with Jon for the past few days."

She held her tongue, not knowing what and how to react. Will he be angry like Lady Catelyn? Will he forbid her from talking to his naturalborn son ever again? Fia heard him sigh and she immediately ducked her head as if receiving punishment.

"... The boy needs friends" he quietly stated, she almost dismissed it as a passing breeze. "He will lead a very different life from Robb and his other half-brothers and sisters. Bastards have to grow faster than their trueborn siblings. I know Cat may not approve of this but I ask of you to keep your amity with Jon... for now at least."

Fia didn't notice that her mouth was hanging open before she closed it completely and blinked multiple times in disbelief. It was... certainly unheard of but if the Lord had wished it, then who was she to deny the order? So she bowed low and said "As you wish my lord."

She turned around to leave him he when he said to her "Make sure no one shall know of this."

"Yes ser" she answered, but she will never tell the Warden of the North that she will continue to follow and accompany Jon because it was her own wish, not for anyone else's.

-.-
Gendry Waters
Kingsroad
_._

This was such a strange situation.

He expected to ride a horse alongside King Robert- his father and the kingsguard, not being cooped inside the carriage like a... like a girl for a month and a half. It might be for his protection but it was like an insult for a man of seventeen to be in the safety of the carriage. He may not know the way of the sword but he had the strength to protect himself.

The bumps of the road almost made him fly off of his seat and he wanted to open the windows to see the sight of the north but he worried that he will just make a fool out of himself. King Robert was... a fat man. His belly was round (no doubt filled with wine), he could barely fit into his armour and get on the horse (poor beast). He had once clapped his large hand on Gendry's back with impressive strength that it made him take a couple of steps forward to avoid falling and his blue eyes had sunken with bags under them.

The great Robert Baratheon who led the rebellion against the Targaryens, the one who defeated Rhaegar at the Trident was now a large puffed-up flesh who spent his days with a flagon of wine in one hand and on a woman's tits on the other. It wasn't hard for Gendry to feel disheartened when he found out about this. Yet he was curious with Robert's plans with him. To acknowledge him as his bastard was... kind of him. Giving him an education was generous, but to legitimize him as his successor? Really, was the king very much drunk when he proclaimed this?

Life inside a castle was not for Gendry. He missed the forge. Every time he slept, his mind would wander back to the Street of Steel, back to Tobho Mott's shop where the old man would check the blades and armour he had made whilst he would be just hammering away with the song of the iron hitting steel and the smell of smoke that brought comfort to him. He seldom dreamed about his mother, he didn't know her much to begin with.

When King Robert asked him where she was, he told him that a fever took her when he was just four. All he could remember was that she had yellow hair that was always tied into a bun, her brown eyes were warm and framed with thick lashes. The king would only see him whenever he visited Flea Bottom; Gendry had never set foot in the castle. If he did... the queen will have his head up on a pike.

He had seen Queen Cersei once when they (the Lannisters) returned from Casterly Rock. She had just gotten out of the carriage along with her children; all of them had hair that looked as though they were spun from the most exquisite gold thread. Her face was no doubt beautiful as they say but he can't help but notice that elegant image was ruined with a sneer or a smirk like either she placed herself above all or she's just too full of it. Maybe both.

The tunic he was wearing was soft and flexible, different from his sleeveless tattered shirt and dirty apron that was coarse against his flesh. The sudden drop of temperature told him that they were most certainly not in King's Landing anymore; unless they've been circling around for weeks.

A knock was heard and he looked out to see one of the kingsguard holding up a waterskin. He reluctantly accepted it, wondering if he should drink it. Mayhaps it's from his kingfather whom he saw was laughing with his soldiers whilst he sat on a massive brown stallion. When he took a sip, he wasn't more or less surprised that it was filled with wine. At least it was good summerwine where the taste of fruits burst in his mouth and the sweetness invaded his tongue. Gendry snorted as he thought 'The good thing of having a father like Robert was he knows a good drink.'

As if Robert had heard his thoughts, the king's booming laughter thundered just outside the carriage as they rode on. He heard from one of the soldiers said that they will arrive at Winterfell by noon tomorrow. He wondered what he should expect as soon as they arrived.

-.-
Jayne Baltimoore
Hailstrom
_._

Quiltin was shouting again.

Rotcher was grasping at her skirt tightly as his brother's jagged tones echo throughout the Great Hall and seep to the square. Jayne lowered her eyes for a second before she stood up to her full height with her head held high. This was not a time to show weakness; especially to the smallfolk and soldiers whose morals decline each day that passed. Silent and graceful as a doe, she made her way into the Godswood where the small bench that was usually occupied by her daughter now lay empty.

The youngest Baltimoore child quickly went off to look for something to play with while Jayne sat on the bench and gave out a large sigh. It had been exactly twenty years since she had arrived here in Hailstrom from the seat of her house: Blackpool, the last time she saw her parents and sister before she too was shipped to her new husband-to-be.

When she first laid eyes on Alfrid, she didn't see a handsome and strong man that Kendra had swooned to. Jayne saw a stranger wearing stainless armour and a lordly sword that was fastened on its sheath. His dark locks cascaded over his shoulder like a raven waterfall and his eyes were the palest shade of gray that they were almost white. She felt no love for the man she was about to marry but she was prepared for this event from the very moment she was born. She might learn to love him after their wedding.

And she did.

He was a proud man who was just and fair; meting out punishment as he see fits and reward those who deserved it. Even if he didn't have the wisest decisions, his virtue and sense of discernment made her love him. That is... until Robert Baratheon's Rebellion had shaken the whole Westeros.

She could still remember the day a raven came bearing the seal of the wolf; calling for their bannermen to ride with their lord to battle. Jayne was pregnant with Quiltin by then; and Alfrid had no intention of leaving his home and family to go to war. "I won't leave you here defenseless while I and our best men fight out there without any assurance of our safe return!" he boomed after she raged on about why he refused to heed the call of his lord. Jayne was so sure that he became half-mad as he called everyone, including the smallfolk to take refuge to Hailstrom and barricade the holdfast.

No one comes in, no one shall leave.

Good Maester Farley had advised Alfrid that this was a dire mistake but the stubborn fool stood firm with his decision... a decision that cost their House's fate. They had turned away the ravens and the foot soldiers that House Stark had sent; resulting to be exiled by Eddard Stark the 'quiet wolf' and Alfrid earned a title amongst the northerners;

'Alfrid the Cowardly'

After the war, Alfrid didn't order the holdfast to be lifted, didn't bother to reply in Ned Stark's call for him to answer his apparent cowardice but thankfully (for House Baltimoore) the Stark didn't try to pursue and let him slink away like an injured mangy dog. Of course, Jayne didn't condone this kind of behaviour and tried to stop Alfrid's downward spiral and regain his honour to the eyes of not only the Starks but in the eyes of everyone. But as she pleaded and shouted, her cries fell on deaf ears as he drank his misery away with a full tankard of wine. He never came out of the Great Keep except for rare nights which Jayne couldn't defy her duties as a wife.

When Quiltin was born, he was so sickly and small that she thought that he wouldn't survive but he defied the odds and the boy grew stronger but with that, also grew his resentment with his father. Fia was born two years after him and it took her thirteen years after her daughter to be followed by Rotcher.

"My darlings" Jayne whispered as she closed her eyes and an image beneath her lids painted a beautiful picture where Quiltin was but a child; his messy hair curled down to the nape of his neck as he played with an even smaller Fianne who chased after her brother with a toothy smile. Fia had always called him 'Kitten' because the pronunciation of the letter 'L' was lost to her. So whenever she seeks her brother, she would just shout out 'Kit!' and her voice would bounce around the grove, Quiltin would always arrive to answer his sister's call.

Her loves.

The only ones who kept her sane in all these years but know they're slowly slipping from her hands like water. Quiltin became hardened for his young age; lines began to set on his face and his mouth was set on a permanent frown. He never once smiled especially when his sister left Hailstrom for Torrhen's Square. Rotcher was innocent with the ways of the outside world and she fears that he might not endure the harsh reality of the state they were living in.

And Fia...

Her beloved daughter who now had the weight of the world on her shoulders. It was a burden but she was sure that only Fia can accomplish this task. Kendra assured her that the girl was in good health and that she was happy in Winterfell under the ladies' services. But Jayne can't help but worry if Fia had forgotten her mission; it had been half a year since she had heard a word directly from her daughter before she comforted herself that Fia couldn't risk sending a raven to Hailstrom lest she be caught.

Jayne watched Rotcher closely as he chased the winged creatures in the garden before she carefully kneeled down under the bench to peek at a bed of purple flowers that bloomed in the shadows. An old woman she had met once as a young girl back in Blackpool had said that it was called 'Witch's' Bloom' and the entire plant was poisonous. Its petals were in the most innocent and loveliest shade of purple with long healthy green stems and it gave an appearance of a harmless flower… only for it to be extremely poisonous and one will suffer a slow and painful death if they happened to eat the flower by 'accident'.

The lady slowly plucked three flowers and placed it into a leather pouch she kept on her person, all the while keeping a close eye if someone would pass them. A thought had been plaguing her mind yet she still didn't have the courage to do so. Or maybe it wasn't the right time, not the right moment. The lady will wait until the opportunity presented itself and maybe by that moment, she will be ready. After all, the lady of the House must see to it that her House shall never fall.

-.-

Sansa Stark

_._

It was nearly done.

The dress wasn't really her finest work but she was quite proud of the outcome. The fabric was simple but sturdy enough to endure the cold of Winterfell and the smoky gray fur was suited for the receiver of this dress. Normally Sansa wouldn't even think of gifting a precious material such as a handmade dress to a handmaid but she felt that Fia became her foster sister and she was every bit she wished Arya would be like. The red-haired girl smiled as she stitched the gray fur on the sleeve, she hoped that this dress might also catch Robb's eye on her handmaiden and maybe it might help them advance in their… closeness. She had been telling Fia to let her be because it would ruin her little surprise, although she can see the questioning light in her eyes whenever Sansa dismissed her. Robb will be eighteen on his next nameday and by then their father might plan to arrange a betrothal with him and a highborn lady and if the gods of old and new favoured Sansa's wishes, he will ask Fia. She's a Holt and Sansa will surely vocalize her approval and persuade her ladymother to do the same.

She was no stranger and Sansa will no doubt be jubilant that she had a goodsister that wasn't a stranger to them. The image was so perfect in Sansa's head that a longing sigh escaped her lips as she dusted the dress over her lap and placed it on the chair. She will finalize the stitching later as she will have no time tomorrow. The king's arrival will no doubt consume everyone's time and Sansa had already prepared what she will wear that day. One must be perfect in the presence of the king and she will make sure that the king will approve of her. She had asked her father about a potential betrothal to Prince Joffrey as he was the King's oldest friend but her father had shown some doubts. But now, Sansa will also make sure that she will not be promised to some… bastard that the king will bring to Winterfell. It was strange but her father had insisted that there shall still be a feast for the king's arrival. No doubt it would lift everyone's moods, especially King Robert and his naturalborn son.

One might wonder what King Robert was thinking; legitimizing his bastard when he already had two sons with his wife. Was it because the bastard was old enough to take his place? No one but the king himself knew the reasons and Sansa was correct to assume that her mother was not the least thrilled with that fact. Her face was a stoic face with a blank expression and her Tully eyes were distant and calculating. The girl was so lost in her thoughts that she forgot that she had a needle sticking out of the cushion and when she grabbed it, it pricked her forefinger.

"Ouch!" she whimpered as a bead of blood slowly dripped from the wound. Sansa walked to her window to see the damage with a cloth in hand to wipe it off. As she wrapped the cloth around the finger, she viewed down the courtyard and saw Fia running away from Jon Snow. 'What on earth?' she thought as she watched her handmaiden flee to the Godswood while the bastard just stood by the stables like nothing happened. Anger and righteous fury enveloped Sansa as she ran out of her room to look for Fia when she bumped into Robb who was walking with little Rickon.

"What made you frown like that?" her older brother asked. Relief flooded her being as Robb tilted his head with sincerity while Rickon held on to his coat, "Sansa?" he coaxed. She bit her lip before she beckoned him to come closer (which he did) and whispered to his ear;

'I think Jon Snow had been accosting my handmaiden!'

Robb drew back rather quickly with an alarmed face, "Surely that didn't happen" he said "Jon wouldn't do something like that. Are you certain that it wasn't something else?"

"I saw it with my own eyes Robb!" she argued, her temper flared when Robb came to Jon Snow's defense, "She ran away from him like she couldn't bear another second with him! If you won't take action then I shall tell mother-"

"I'll sort this out" Robb spoke out "Mother didn't need to know about this. I'll straighten it with Jon and tell him to keep distance if what you say is true"

Sansa's lips pursed as she held her gaze stubbornly to her brother's, "I always tell the truth Robb."

Robb sighed as he patted his sister's head in a patronizing manner, "I know, I know" before he walked off with Rickon still holding on to his coat with no idea what had transpired. Sansa shook her head as she retreated to her room. The pinprick on her finger now forgotten as she started to braid her hair, curling them tight so they would be wavy tomorrow at the dinner feast. Mayhaps she could ask her mother to keep Jon away from the feast so that Fia won't be bothered.

_._

A/N: Alright I know it's a little short and maybe even a bit 'filler'-ish but I think I did good.

As usual thank the reviewers for if it weren't for them, this would be discontinued. Seriously.

So I kinda had a row with this reader who shall not be named because I'm not that petty but here's to why I have the No review = No updates rule:

I kinda been downhearted for the past few days since I get this notifications and I was like "Yay!" but when I found out that it's only faves and alerts, it kinda sucked. Let's face it, I only get excited enough to write when I get valuable feedbacks (constructive criticism and such) because it helps me write better. I get 38 alerts but only 5 reviews and all I could think was "What are the other 33 people doing?" I know I come out as a review-whore but truly I am. Not because it strokes my ego but it helps me improve the things I do and if what I'm writing is actually worth reading. You're thinking "Hey I faved/alerted your story so be thankful!" I am, but it actually doesn't help me in the slightest because it came across to my like "Oh I'm just reading this to kill time." For some it's true but for me, this is like my baby. How would you feel if every chapter of your story is averaged 50 to 100 views and not get a single review?

So with that, I firmly stand by my 'NO REVIEWS = NO UPDATES' rule because I'm not going to write something I have no idea if people liked what the hell's going on or not. I'm not asking for a detailed review that will nitpick every sentence. Just a simple 'It's nice' or a specific scene that you liked will actually help me a lot and you can even throw in some suggestions or comments. Constructive criticism is valuable to me but I don't respond well to flames (i.e "I don't like this pairing!" or "This sucks!" (Without even saying why)) so I'm just asking for you to share your thoughts with me as a writer and you as a reader.

On a lighter note: I was planning to update this last week but I was too busy with binge-watching on Netflix so it was my bad. Are you guys excited for the new season of GoT? I hope they won't deviate from the books too much. And yeah, I played out Kit Harrington's name here with Quiltin because it's just so damn cute (for me at least).

Thanks for these cool people who actually found the time (and effort) to write a review:

Malyx Blackfyre

KBlack25: Oh don't worry, it will happen soon enough. And the moment you're waiting for… the feast!

SincerelyAnOppurtunist

Guest (Anon)

PurplBtterfries

sweetangel014: Awww that actually made me smile like a crazy person! And thank you so much for pointing that! I really have to back-edit every chapter but thanks for reading it over and over. (You might be the half of the viewing rates)

NO REVIEW = NO UPDATE